Horcrox
by lollyholly6teen
Summary: Sirius is dead and Harry is suicidal. Voldemort finds out that Harry is a horcrox and want him protected. Light baniching Nice Voldemort Nice/Motherly Petunia


**So... I read a story here on made by Isys Skeeter and it was caled "Love is overreted anyway, isn't it?"**

** s/7534883/1/Love-is-Overrated-Anyway-isn-t-It**

**And I really liked the idea of the story and it inspired me to write a story of my own. So here's the first chapter of Horcrox, I hope you'll like it.**

**Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter**

"Talk"

_/Parseltounge/_

* * *

Pain shattered through his cranium as the fist collided his jaw. He did not scream. Not anymore. Not since Sirius. Poor Sirius. It was his fault that Sirius was not here anymore. It was always his fault. He fell backwards and landed on the floor not bothering getting up. There was no point, he would end up on the floor again anyway. Pain of what might be compared to that of a knife hit his ribcage. _ A foot,_ he thought numbly tasting the oh so familiar metallic taste form in his mouth. He still did not scream even as the punches and kicks washed over him like a flood. It did not stop the abuse tough. In fact, it only became worse and worse and worse. _Oh Merlin, please take me with you to the afterlife, _the boy prayed before his world turned into complete darkness.

On a hill in the outer edge of Little Hangleton lay a mansion. It was painted white, though after so many years the colour had changed to something that looked like a mix between yellow and light brown. The paint was cracked and fell form the walls in large flakes revelling the brick wall underneath. It had been left abandoned for decades or so the villagers believed. Every now and then, if you listened closely enough, you would hear pained devastated screams or even a maniacally mad lough come from the mansion. But as soon as you thought you had heard it. It was goon. No one ever neared the place, because if you did you would never come back alive. And it was not just a ghost story running through the town. No, on occasion a young group of village kids would go near the house to prove their courage. No one would see them again. And that is why the people in Little Hangleton would ignore the screams, and the laughter and the occasional light which would shine from one of the windows. They would not go near the mansion. Because if they did, they were dead.

What the town's people did not know was that the mansion had been active for many years. There was always someone in the house. Always someone who would come. Always someone who would leave. But the people of Little Hangleton never saw those who visited the house and they never would. Because those who came to the manor were nothing like the towns people. They were different. Walking in and out of the mansion in their black robes and white masks were hundreds and yet hundreds of witches and wizards. And all these magical beings came to the house to receive their orders from one man, and one man only. Their Dark Lord.

The manor was divided like so: the ground floor was where the Deatheters, the Dark Lord's followers, would meet when their Lord had announcements to make. The first floor was for his second ranked and inner circle, while the second floor was for the inner circle only. And last the third floor was for the Lords private use where he had his own champers. Said Lord was at this moment sitting at his desk in his office on the second floor. The desk was covered in papers which had been stacked in various piles. Though the man did not pay much attention to all the paper work he obviously had to do. He was sitting with a fare off look in his eyes thinking hard about a large problem he had. A sound was heard form one of the corners in the room. Even in his far off state the man would have acted by drawing his wand and hexed the intruder. But he knew that presence to well and would therefore never think that the intruder would do him any harm. He knew she would not. The snake slithered its way through the room towards the man. As it came to the chair it climbed elegantly up onto the man's lap before slithering once around the man's torso and the back of the chair. Looking the man straight in the eyes it hissed: _/You look troubled master./_

_ /I am,/_ the man hissed back with a sigh as he let a bony hand cherish the body of the snake.

_ /May I ask why?/_

_ /Nagini,/ _the man sighed and ran his free hand over his hairless head. _/I've realised something./_

_ /Oh?/_ the snake looked at him with curiosity shining in her eyes. _/And what may that be my Lord?/_

_ /That we cannot kill the boy./_

Harry sighed and felt like crying, as he had done so many times that summer already, when he felt his slow painful intakes of air as he regained consciousness. Waking up was the worst thing he knew. The worst thing he had ever known. For it meant that he was still alive to endure another day in the hell that was his life. He wondered what he had done to deserve this. But nothing crossed his mind. _Maybe in a former life,_ he thought humourlessly. A smile would have crept its way across his face, if said face had not been so swollen that he could barely move it. He caught once again himself wondering whenever Voldemort would barge through the doors in Private Drive number four and finally end this miserable life of his. It was almost a constant thought lying in the back of his mind now, so he did not think much of it. He could no longer remember a time he did not wish for death, and it made him wonder why he had never finished the job himself. The job the Dark Lord could not do when the boy had just been one year old. Death was his only pleasure but no one seemed to want to grant him that freedom. No one seemed to want to stop his breath form leaving his mouth, or keep his heart form beating loudly in his chest. No one seemed to want to stop his eyes form opening in the morning. Because he would be of no use if he were to die. The-boy-who-lived were not to die before time.

Nagini slithered in between legs under the table, loving how it made the seated uncomfortable, before finding her way to her master at the head of the table. Voldemort looked at the people form his inner circle, the people he trusted the most. "I have an assignment for you," he said coldly. "You are to look after the Potter boy."

"My Lord?" A longhaired blond man asked in confusion. He, as everyone else at the table, was at a loss. Ever since the boy had been born their orders had been to kill the boy, but now their Lord wanted them to look after him?

"It has come to my knowledge," the Lord started. He looked around slowly catching the eyes of his minions, "that when I tried to kill him the first time he turned into a Horcrox."

Those seated at the table began shifting, mumbling amongst themselves. Finally an elderly man took the word deciding to ask the question they all wanted to ask. "But my Lord, what does that mean?"

"It means that he carries a piece of my soul inside of him and therefore we cannot kill him. He is to be treasured. Protected." He looked around at the people of his inner circle, satisfied as he saw there expressions turn from shocked to understanding and finally to accept. Then he looked to his side and looked directly at a black haired man. "Severus," he addressed the man. "I trust that this information does not get to the light."

"Of course my Lord," the man said with a slight nod. Even though the man's expression was completely blank, inwardly Severus was glowing with joy. He no longer had a reason to follow the light.

"Boy get down here!" Uncle Vernon shouted up the stairs. The man could have shouted at a wall and got the same response for his target, the boy, was too dazed to hear anything. Harry was sitting on the floor in his bedroom. Though if you asked him he would deny that it was his. It was just a room he was forced to be in. His skin was turning slightly grey as it paled drastically, and his emerald green eyes were glazed as he looked down at his arms. Said arms were covered in cuts made by a kitchen knife the boy had smuggled into his room the night before. Blood was flowing from the cuts dripping down onto the floor covering it in red. The door flew open and in stormed Vernon Dursley with a face as red as a tomato and just as round. It became even redder, if possible, though as he saw the state of the boy. "Shit! Not again!" He yelled before starting to patch the boy back together. He could not let the boy's condition get any worse. If it did those freaks would come to his house and he could not have that.

Petunia Dursley was standing outside that evening. Cigarette in hand. Her husband had gone to bed and so had her son. The boy was lying unconscious, because of the blood loss, so she was the only one who was still awake. Hence the cigarette. She was not supposed to smoke, it would not look good with the neighbours after all, but it was her secret guilty pleasure. She should probably be surprised that her husband never noticed, but she was not. There were so many things that that man did not see. Especially when it came to her. She was looking at one of the things now. Just across the street was someone standing. Or was there more than one? She did not know. But what she did know was that she could feel their presence even with their invisibility and notice-me-not charms that they used. Petunia had always been able to feel those "freaks". She chuckled lightly at herself, after all she did not mind the freaks though everyone thought she did. Sometimes she wondered if she was a bit like them to. She refocused on the people across the street. Concentrating she could feel that there were three of them though that was not the information she was looking for. Trying harder she tried to decide whether they were with the old goat of a headmaster or the psychopath killer. It was something she had been working on ever since she had opened the door almost fifteen years ago to find her baby nephew with nothing but a letter to tell her about her sister's death. But that was not important now. She finally felt that little sparkle that defined which side they were on. Lighting another cigarette she took a few shaky drags before pushing herself of off her house wall. Determined she walked towards the three across the road. She had felt people form their side watching her house for the last week and now she had finally made up her mind to approach them. "I know you're there," she said in a calm low voice when she knew she was close enough for them to hear. A woman with black curly hair that flew everywhere and a hint of crazy shining in her eyes appeared in front of her. "Please," She begged the woman, tears threatening to fall. "Just kill him already."

"Why would we do that?" Petunia looked to the side to see a black haired man. She had seen him before. He had been her sister's friend, Lily's friend. She remembered the name.

"Severus please," she finally let tears fall down her cheeks, no longer able to hold them back, as she looked at the man. "The boy has suffered enough. Please just give him the death he so desire."

"He wishes for death?" Severus asked fighting to keep his voice even. He knew the death of Sirius would be hard on the boy, but he had never imagined that the boy would wish to follow.

"He has tried to kill himself so many times I've lost count," Petunia was openly sobbing now. She loved the boy no matter how it looked on the outside. Sometimes even more than her own son. No, she was kidding herself. Her nephew was more her son than her own Dudley. After all Dudley was only a mare copy of her husband.

Severus' bale skin had turned grey as he fought to keep himself in check. "How is he now?" He whispered almost silently afraid that his voice would crack if he spoke any louder than that.

"He's unconscious right now after his 'attempt' earlier today," she did not dare say the word suicide afraid that her heart might break even more.

All four were silent for a long time before Severus turned to the blond, long haired man. "Lusius go tell the Lord that we are bringing the boy back to the manor." The blond did not bother answering and were gone the next second with a loud crack. "You can get us through the wards," he stated to Petunia.

"Yes," she confirmed before turning and began walking quickly towards the house with the witch and wizard on her heels. As they entered the house Petunia decided to take charge finally being able to do something for her nephew. "His things are in the cupboard," she said to the wizard before turning to the crazy witch. "My husband is up there," she pointed up the stairs at the door to the master bedroom. At their puzzled look she continued to explain: "He and his son," she spat out the last two words as she did not wish to call that boy her son any longer. "Have been abusing my nephew and me for years. I do believe that it is time for their punishment," and with that she left the two as she stormed up the stairs towards her nephews room.

Bellatrix looked up at Severus as a crazy smile creped across her face. "I like that woman," she stated before jumping happily up the stairs towards her target. Severus just shook his head as he moved to the cupboard.

"Harry," in his daze the boy winched as a hand shook his sore shoulder. "Wake up Harry," he recognized the voice of his aunt. She only ever called him Harry when they were alone. They must be alone then. He jerked up, as a bone cracking scream was heard from the hall, only to be pinned back down on the bed again by Petunia. "Relax everything is okay," she said soothingly while running her hand through his hair. "Everything will be fine."

"What is going on?" He asked weakly. His whole body hurt and he was still weak after the blood loss.

"Some people have come to take you away," she explained but as she saw his eyes go wide and his skin turn pale in panic she quickly added: "They're not with the headmaster." Almost on cue the manically happy laughter of one Bellatrix Lestrange was heard form down the hall where the earlier screams had come from. Oddly enough did the sound seem to calm the boy. He looked up to see his aunt looking in the direction of the door with a small smile playing on her lips.

"What is going on?" He repeated causing Petunia to laugh a little.

"I honestly have no idea," she said turning to look down at him again. "But one thing I do know is that we'll never see your uncle and cousin again. Now come on, let's get out of here."


End file.
